Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Hardrock Impressions

So it’s been 4 days in Silverton, and I’ve had some time to see 61 miles of the
course and learn a little about what I’m really about to do in 8 days. At first
the mountains are overwhelming. To paint the scene, it’s much like a kid slowly
craning his head upwards towards the sky, jaw dropped, gaze extending
endlessly. For a few moments, you can’t get over how far you can see, how much
vertical relief there is, how legendary the trails are. As you get into it, the
air feels higher than just 13 or 14,000ft, but as you acclimate, things start
to get better (two fold).

The reason the air feels extra thin isn’t any environmental reason (as a matter
of fact, most areas are more humid than traditional dry peaks because there is
so much greenery and water flowing everywhere (even in this dry year), the
reason the air feels thin is because fear/stress in the human body causes
inefficiency: increased blood pressure, headaches, asthma, etc. etc.. So, when
they say “you have nothing to fear but fear itself” it’s basically, “you have
nothing to fear but fear ruining your race.” Acclimation in this sense can’t be
achieved only in an altitude tent; it has to be done in these massive
mountains, in a hale storm freezing you to your core, in the middle of
confusing cross country navigation, at the base of a gigantic climb, in the
moments you hike past your comfort zone with confidence intact. This
acclimation allows impossible performances like Kyle Skaggs CR, and Kirk Apt’s
17 finishes.

Where there's Gold

In my runs over the past few days, I’ve thought about the
mines strewn about the course. They’re impossible to miss and are often high up
on the most remote and difficult to access ledges. Though their motivation was
fortune, and some of their mines now leach out toxins, there still are other parallels
with Hardrock runners. 100 Miles in the San Juans could be achieved using much
lower peaks and less technical terrain, but that’s not what it’s about for the
runner. This is about a race that is more rewarding and glorious than any
other. It’s a fortune of an experience and accomplishment, and to achieve it,
more will be asked of a runner here than anywhere else. The miner and the
runner both appreciate the pain and suffering of the San Juans, and the glory
of a (albeit selfish) gold strike (physical or spiritual) is worth it. We are
not here to mine for Bronze, but the most precious Gold in the mountain running
world.